


Desert's Edge

by thatclutzsarahh



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Terrorism, Violence, back history, pre pilot, rare ship challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatclutzsarahh/pseuds/thatclutzsarahh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for sherlockrareship for the July challenge. Prompt is: Conflict:</p>
<p> In a foreign country torn by conflict, Mycroft discovers why Anthea is so important to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desert's Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Teen audiences and up for terrorism and violence.

He looks at her with all the fire in the world in his glance.

They are far from London, scorching their skin in the heat of the middle east, in a war torn country’s embassy. Underneath lock and key, the pair are on their very highest of alerts - Mycroft’s heard news of a planned attempt by a terrorist group on a nearby Mosque. He is in hopes that they will catch the ones who made the threat before it comes to light. 

And they were fine, that early morning, Anthea wrapped tight in her black Niqab, baking slowly beneath the fabric layers. She is unnaturally beautiful-strikingly so, with eyebrows curved perfectly, pointed like the edges of her cruel eyes, looking for anything out of the ordinary. And Mycroft, too, has ditched his traditional garb, blending into the culture is far better than standing out. 

The morning is fine, the area is hostile but quiet, and it is easy to forget that the small village is under rule of a terrorist organization (or multiple, to be honest it has been a hard read). They leave their lodgings early, wandering the streets before coming to a small cafe-esque place outside the building in question, slowly being filled for morning prayer. 

They had fought. He regrets it now, now that sirens fill his ears and so does dust and screams and wails from widowers. She was a stubborn woman, a reasonably cautious girl, and though she is much younger than he, she possesses a wiseness beyond her years. Beyond his. But there is also a downfall. The woman is, exactly that, a woman, and thus, by Mycroft’s theories, more emotionally driven than men.

But she is the best they have, and this is a delicate situation, one they cannot afford to screw up. It didn’t help that they had picked up a conversation about something they don’t agree on (it’s all so pointless now) which has caused the energy between them to shift. Their morning tea became a game of chess, a brilliant dance of wits and disagreements. And while Mycroft loved to spar words with her, it was risking their mission, and her…emotions were beginning to show. He figures she’s dropped their conversation the moment the suspects arrive, the device disguised as an offering box, three men, heading for prayer.

Women are not allowed in the building, which is why they were to stop them before they get inside. Mycroft finishes his scone and leaves to pay, and by the time he looks up she is across the street and in the arms of men. All Mycroft can do is watch helplessly. The man yanks down her Niqab, exposing her face, pale and very much not of the race of the village. Her compromise causes his, and the men grin, laugh.

"You stupid Englishmen and your women!" shouts the man whose fingers are around Anthea’s throat, "This is not your country, this is not your war!" 

He wonders in that moment, if he had never upset her then she would have waited for backup, waited for him, at least, but decides quickly that the retrospection is not only useless but distracting. Mycroft thinks quickly, knowing that his forces are not near enough to take the three out without hitting her. And then the thought that perhaps he should take her out as well crosses his mind. But it dies as quickly as the previous one. He needs her.

He needs her not because she is pretty, but because she is intelligent. She is foolish, she is reckless, she is young and she is passionate, things that he does not have, qualities he does not possess. She balances out his literacy, balances his computer mind and analytical behavior. She is his most valuable asset and he can’t risk losing her. Not then, not there, and not because she was being irrational and foolish. 

"Maybe next time you will send a real man to kill me!" 

The man calls to Mycroft, letting him watch in horror as he slides a curved blade into Anthea’s side. Her eyes go wide, head tilts back, and the terrorist lets her go to crumple to the ground. He doesn’t move, he watches her roll to her side, watches as she pulls her fingers into her to stop the bleeding. The wound is life threatening, and if he doesn’t get there quickly, she will die. 

For Mycroft, the mission is over, and the three men disappear quickly into the Mosque. It was a suicide mission, minutes later there is a sound of an explosion, and between the sounds of screaming people and falling rubble, Mycroft is quick to cover Anthea with his body, shielding her from falling bits of rubble and dust. 

Which is how they end up here, and now, Mycroft’s eyes are full of fire, staring at her hard. He threatens to call her stupid, threatens to leave her there, threatens to place his hands on her injury. Anthea is gasping for breath, eyes wide and full of apologies. What does one say to another while they lay dying, miles from home, from family, from lovers? Mycroft, the king of all numbers and algarhythmns cannot find the words to say anything to her. And for her, that is okay. Her hand extends out for his but he doesn’t take it, can’t take it because the idea his beloved secretary is leaving is too much to take for him. He won’t say goodbye.

And luckily, he doesn’t have to.

They take her first, the ambulance on scene knows she is a national and is of the utmost importance. Mycroft is not allowed to go with her, instead pulled away from her in a big black SUV, he knows they want a debrief, he knows the process will be long and messy, tedious and filled with paperwork. But for now, that is not something Mycroft can think about. He wants to be by her side, wants to make sure she is okay. 

It takes her six months to recover, and leaves in that country a piece of her she cannot get back. Her pride is wounded, heart is broken, and Mycroft is only grateful his beloved lady is still here. He wheels her into the office in her wheelchair, the first time since the injury, and Mycroft makes sure she is comfortable and welcomed back by all those in the office. She is happy to be back, and Mycroft, as foolish as she had been, is grateful she is still there for him.


End file.
